Taste of Freedom
by Shadow Bandit
Summary: AU of PoA. Harry Potter leaves Privet Drive before Aunt Marge arrives. During the school year Harry widens his circle of friends, develops his first crush while attending classes with the aid of a time turner, dodging Dementors and the escaped convict, Sirius Black.
1. Owl Post

Disclaimer: You know the drill…I do not own the Harry Potter books, they are copyrighted to J. K. Rowling and various publishing, movie and video game producing firms.

Author Note: Yes, I do know that some of this is copied directly from the books and even more of it has been only lightly changed from the canon PoA. I am going to move further away from canon as the story progresses.

Reviews are welcome but not compulsory, this fan fiction will continue without a review quota being reached. Either encouragement or constructive criticism will be answered in my author page; however flames will be read, laughed at and promptly destroyed.

Warning: This is a pre-slash fan fiction, don't like don't read, if you ignore this warning then don't come crying to me.

— Chapter One ―

_Owl Post_

Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one he hated summer holidays more then any other time of year. For another he wanted to do his homework, but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. He also happened to be a wizard.

The one thing the Dursleys (who were the number one reason he hated summer holidays) feared above everything else was someone finding out about Harry's magic. After attending Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and wizardry for the past couple of years. Harry was heartily sick of their attitude, just one more needless aggravation and he was going to leave and never come back, regardless of the supposed protections.

Dumbledore said he needed to stay here for his own protection, well Dumbledore wasn't the one who had to deal with their stance on magic, without the protection of a wand because of some dinky law on under-age wizardry.

Even with his _family's_ knowledge of this law, everything that went wrong around the house was supposedly Harry's fault. They had decided to lock up his trunk and anything else of his they deemed _unnatural_ in the cupboard under the stairs. He would take his trunk's place, if the Dursley's knew that Harry had raided the cupboard (and taken all his books up to his room) while they were admiring Uncle Vernon's new company car.

Harry endeavoured to do his homework with the purloined spellbooks at night, including the particularly nasty essay on Swelling Solutions, for Harry's least _favourite_ professor. Snape would be delighted to have an excuse to give him detention for a month if he came back without his summer homework done.

Finishing off his History of Magic homework, Harry placed the torch, textbook, stationery supplies and drying essay in an old pillow case and shoved the lot under his bed. Stretching he turned around to go to the window and found three owls, two perched on the windowsill and the crumpled form of Errol (the Weasley family's owl, who was getting on a bit) on the floor just inside the window. All waiting to be relieved of their burdens.

Harry dashed to the fallen bird at once, taking his parcel and placing him in Hedwig's cage. Errol gave a feeble hoot of thanks and began to gulp up some water. He turned and removed the burden from his large female snowy owl who looked extremely pleased with herself. She gave him an affectionate nip with her beak and flew off to join Errol in her cage.

Lastly, Harry turned to the only remaining owl, a large tawny one, who must have come from Hogwarts, for in addition to the parcel which must have been sent by Hagrid, he carried a letter which bore the school's crest. When Harry took the owl's post, the bird ruffled its feathers importantly and launched itself into flight made a single circuit of the room and left through the window.

Harry checked his watch to confirm that his birthday had arrived and then opened all his gifts. After admiring the pile of presents once Harry retrieved his parchment quill and ink and wrote out some thank-you notes, with a post script added to Hagrid's asking how he was supposed to use the biting book.

Turning to the Neglected Hogwarts letter, noticing that it was thicker then usual. Harry slit the open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within and read:

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_Please Note that the new school year will begin on September the first, The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross Station, Platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock._

_Third-years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade at certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign._

_A list of books for next year is enclosed._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Harry pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning. It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade at weekends; he knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and he had never set foot there. How on earth was he going to persuade Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to sign the form?

Looking over at the alarm clock, it was now two o'clock in the morning. Deciding that he would worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, Harry got back in bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart he'd made for himself, counting down the days left until he returned to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses and lay down, eyes open, facing his three birthday cards. Extremely unusual though he was at that moment Harry Potter felt just like everyone else: glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday.

* * *

Harry went down to breakfast the next morning to find the three Dursley's already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had complained of the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbled as he ate continually.

Harry sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of moustache. Far from wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys gave any sign that they had noticed him entering the room, Harry was far to used to this to care, helped himself to a piece of toast.

Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch and said, "I'd be off in a minute, Petunia." To his wife, a horse-faced woman, who was at the kitchen window squinting into the neighbour's runner-beans. "Marge's train gets in at ten."

Harry who's thoughts had been upstairs with his new _Broomstick Servicing Kit_ (a surprising gift from Hermione), was brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump.

"Aunt Marge?' he blurted out. "Sh-_she_'s not coming here, is she?"

Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Harry's (whose mother had been Aunt Petunia's sister), he had been forced to refer to the woman by the title Aunt, all his life. Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a large house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn't often stay in Privet Drive, because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dog behind. Harry tried not to remember any of her visits, but they were unfortunately horribly vivid memories.

"Marge'll be here for a week," Uncle Vernon snarled, "and while we're on the subject…" He pointed a fat finger threateningly at Harry. "We need to get a few things straight before I go to collect her."

Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television. Watching Harry being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley's favourite form of entertainment.

"Firstly," growled Uncle Vernon, You'll keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Marge."

"All right," said Harry bitterly, "if she does the same when talking to me."

"Secondly," said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Harry's reply, "as Marge doesn't know anything about your _abnormality_, I don't want any - any _funny_ stuff while she's here. You behave yourself, got me?"

"I will if she does," said Harry through gritted teeth.

"And thirdly," said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes narrowed to slits in his great purple face, "We've told Marge you attend St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys."

"_What?_" Harry yelled.

"And you'll be sticking to that story, boy, or there'll be trouble," spat Uncle Vernon.

Harry sat there white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it. Aunt Marge coming for a week-long visit – it was the worst present the Dursley's had ever given him including that pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks.

"Well Petunia," said Uncle Vernon, getting heavily to his feet, "I'll be off to the Station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?"

"No," said Dudley whose attention had returned to the television now that Uncle Vernon had finished threatening Harry.

"Duddy's got to make himself smart for his Aunt," said Aunt Petunia, smoothing Dudley's thick blonde hair. "Mummy has bought him a lovely new bow-tie."

Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder.

"See you in a bit, then," he said and left the kitchen.

Harry, who had sat in a kind of horrified trance, had a sudden idea. Abandoning his now empty plate, he got quickly to his feet and followed Uncle Vernon to the front door.

Uncle Vernon was pulling on his car coat.

"I'm not taking _you_," he snarled as he turned to see Harry watching him.

"Like I wanted to come," said Harry coldly. "I wanted to ask you something."

Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously.

"Third years at…my school are permitted to visit the village sometimes," said Harry.

"So?" snapped Uncle Vernon, taking his keys from a hook on the wall next to the door.

"I need you to sign my permission form," said Harry in a rush.

"And why should I do that?" sneered Uncle Vernon.

"Well," said Harry, choosing his words with care. "I don't particularly want to remain here, especially with Aunt Marge coming. You don't want me here at any time…"

"That is obvious, boy, get to the point." His uncle roared.

"If you sign the form, I'll be packed and gone before you get back with her…"

Harry could see two of Uncle's primary goals when it came to him warring with each other over his uncle's face. On the one hand he would get rid of his _freakish_ nephew earlier then he could have dared to hope. But he would be giving Harry something that would make him happy, something Uncle Vernon had always endeavoured not to do.

Trying to nudge his decision, "It'd be hard work, pretending that I go to St Whatsits…"

"St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, Harry was pleased to hear a definite note of panic in his uncle's voice.

"Exactly," said Harry, looking calmly up into his Uncle Vernon's large purple face. "It's a lot to remember, I'll have to make it sound convincing, wont I? Aunt Marge isn't that easy to fool (year right, Harry thought, wanting to roll his eyes), what if I _accidentally_ let something slip?"

"_You'll get the stuffing knocked out of you won't you?_" snarled Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry, fist raised. Harry stood his ground.

"Knocking the stuffing out of me won't make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her," he said grimly.

Uncle Vernon Stopped, his fist raised, his face an ugly puce.

"If you sign my permission form," Harry went on quickly. "It wont be a problem as I can't tell Aunt Marge anything, if I not here, can I?"

Harry could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared in the parody of a smile and a vein was throbbing in his temple.

"Right," he snapped finally. "I'll sign your ruddy form, but if you're here when I get back from picking up Marge you'll get what for, you hear me?"

Harry handed over the form, watched his uncle sign it angrily and shove it back into Harry's hands. Uncle Vernon wheeled around, pulled open the front door, stalked through (Harry had seen Snape stalking around too often to be impressed by his uncle's feeble attempt) and slammed it so hard that one of the little glass panes fell out.

Harry was ecstatic, no more Dursley's and none of Marge at all. He had been heartily sick of the lot of them before he finished his first year of primary school. He stuck his head into the kitchen and informed his Aunt that he was going to clear out before Marge arrived and asked if she could unlock the cupboard door so he could pack his belongings into his trunk. He headed upstairs knowing that she would do it and pretty much anything else to get rid of him for another year, preferably forever. Picking up the hall phone he rang the local taxi firm and asked for a cab, whose driver knew London, to come for ten past the next hour.

His relatives were so predictable, his Aunt would avoid the first floor and hall so she didn't have to see him again and Dudley wouldn't move from his spot in front of the new television for anything at the moment (even for his favourite sport, tormenting Harry). This allowed Harry to shift his spellbooks from his room to the trunk and pack them in without any fear of punishment.

Placing everything he owned apart from; his wand, Hedwig's cage (who wasn't ye back form delivering last night's thank you notes) and his emergency stash of muggle money, two hundred pounds, which should cover a taxi fare and at least one night in a muggle hotel room.

* * *

Hearing the crunch of gravel outside, Harry opened the door while dragging his trunk behind him. As the taxicab's driver got out to put the luggage in the boot of the car. Harry returned to the house, brought out Hedwig's cage and closed the door, placing the cage on the back seat Harry got in the front seat and asked the driver to take him to a good hotel on, or near Charing Cross Road. Harry spent the ride looking out the side window and marvelling at the fact that he didn't have to see hide nor hair of the Dursley's for another year.

The cab pulled up outside a small hotel, Harry paid the driver and placed his trunk on the sidewalk followed by Hedwig's cage as the taxi zoomed off. Trudging inside, Harry headed to the front desk and asked for a room. Handing over the money and taking the offered key Harry headed to the elevator and headed up to the required floor. He opened the door and set down his luggage and took a tour of the suite's three rooms. He looked forward to sleeping on the king sized bed obviously he had paid for a couple's, not a single suite. Harry couldn't work up any indignation at the hotel staff taking advantage of him.

Harry sat down on the settee, taking some time to think, he hadn't wanted to on the way here. Somehow believing that if started scheming too far ahead, that he would jinx it and not actually escape. But now he was here he had to decide exactly what he was going to do for the summer…


	2. Alley Sneak

Disclaimer: You know the drill…I do not own the Harry Potter books, they are copyrighted to J. K. Rowling and various publishing, movie and video game producing firms.

Author Note: Yes, I do know that some of this is copied directly from the books and even more of it has been only slightly changed from the canon PoA. I am going to move further away from canon as the story progresses.

Reviews are welcome but not compulsory, this fan fiction will continue without a review quota being reached. Either encouragement or constructive criticism will be answered in my author page; however flames will be read, laughed at and promptly destroyed.

Warning:This is a pre-slash fan fiction, don't like don't read, if you ignore this warning then don't come crying to me.

* * *

— _Chapter Two ―_

**Alley Sneak**

Hurrying through Diagon Alley with a cap on, trying to avoid the notice of any other shoppers, ignoring everything other then his goal, Gringotts. Harry didn't want anyone to know that he had been to alley after all he was still supposed to be safely tucked away at Privet Drive.

Harry approached the closest free goblin, handed over his key and said, "I wish to make some inquiries about my vault and a withdrawal, please," while studying the wall behind the goblin.

"Griphook," said the goblin, continuing with instructions in gobbledegook. Harry followed the Goblin, through to a reasonably sized office and ushered inside by Griphook who shut the door behind him.

Sitting down, Harry spent the next half hour talking about his finances with the aged goblin, over half of what the magical being said was completely incomprehensible. Talk of investments, dividends, house and item value appreciation, inflation and interest went right over the young Gryffindor's head. At the end the only thing the teenage had managed to absorb was that he had no reason to worry about money _ever_ again.

The vault he had access to currently, was only supposed to support him until he came of age at seventeen. Then he would gain access to the Potter vaults, one strictly for money and the other housed artefacts, books, records and anything else a Potter cared to place there. It seems that more money was deposited into, what the goblin termed as, his trust vault on Halloween every year (as the vault had become active at his parents demise).

After a brief trip down to his vault, Harry exchanged most of the wizarding money to muggle and swiftly left both Gringotts and Diagon Alley behind. He hated that he couldn't linger in the wizarding world, other then trying to avoid anyone learning of his early departure from his relatives tender care, the attention focusing on him when someone recognised him as their icon was disconcerting to a boy who had grown up essentially ignored.

Returning to his hotel, Harry approached the women at the counter again (glad to notice her sporting a guilty look after spotting him) and asked politely if he could extend his booking to September first. It seemed he was in luck as there were few pre-booking, he was allowed to keep the rooms he had grown found of so quickly. He handed over the amount asked for, which included a deposit encase of damages to the rooms.

Harry felt like hitting himself when he saw the women's shock at a boy handing over such a large wad of pounds. He should have asked the goblin's if they had any method of paying more discreetly in the muggle world, as most of their larger transactions usually happened electronically, anyone using cash was remembered vividly. Come to think of it he didn't want to run around Diagon Alley weighed down with coins either.

It took Harry several days to get used to his new strange freedom. Never before had he been able to get up when he wanted or eat whatever he fancied. He could even go wherever he liked, whenever he liked as long as he avoided all other witches and wizards. Harry spent his time exploring muggle London, as the Dursleys had never taking him anywhere he was thoroughly enjoying himself. He had never had anyone spending money on him the way a parent would (not the way the Dursleys indulged Dudley, but the way he imagined Hermione was treated at home), Harry decided to indulge himself.

Buying himself clothing was quite a trial, Harry had never been clothes shopping before, in the end he was happy however. They were first clothes (other then his Hogwarts robes and the two jumpers from Mrs Weasley had given him for Christmas) that actually fit him rather then being for someone four times his size.

He bought himself several muggle toys, including a hand held game console and a laptop which he knew were of no use to him for a majority of the year while at Hogwarts (yes, he had listened to Hermione when she often quoted _Hogwarts, A History_, thank you very much).

Harry ventured back into Diagon Alley again on the sixth, wearing, what he hoped was a more thorough disguise (he wouldn't do anything permanent with three weeks until school started up again), muggle makeup, hat and sunglasses. He got weird looks from all the purebloods, who obviously had no idea what sunglasses were, but as his forehead was showing without the telltale scar and he was wearing muggle clothing that fit, no one thought to connect him to The-Boy-Who-Lived. Harry was counting on them being complacent; he still didn't want his vacation from Privet Drive to be discovered.

As he wandered down the alley at a leisurely pace eavesdropping on the discussions of the alley's other customers as he passed. He tuned out any of the conversations involving the showing off of purchases some of diners seated under brightly coloured umbrellas outside every cafés were involved in. The more serious topic of the prison escapee he listened to avidly ("personally I won't let the children out alone until he's back in Azkaban"). Now Harry knew why the muggle newscasts never mentioned where Sirius Black escaped from. The Ministry of Magic would never allow the muggle public to be informed that he had escaped from Azkaban, a wizarding prison, as that would involve the discloser of the fact that magic exists. Harry knew that Uncle Vernon would have an aneurism if he knew that a wizard that had been locked away for the murder was at large.

Harry was going to avoid the crowd forming outside the Quality Quidditch Supplies, he was however drawn into the hubbub by the snatches of conversation that he overheard.

"Just come out…prototype…" was one of several excited mutterings.

"It's the fastest broom in the world, isn't it dad?" a squeaky voice asked over the din of rumour swapping and exchanges of opinions.

Finally making it to the front of the crowd, Harry nearly swallowed his tongue…in the display window, mounted on a newly erected podium was the most magnificent broom Harry had ever seen. Next to the broom was a sign:

_THE FIREBOLT_

_This state-of-the-art racing broom sports a streamlined, superfine handle of ash, treated with a diamond-hard polish and hand-numbered with its own registration number. Each individually selected birch twig in the broomtail has been honed to aerodynamic perfection, giving the Firebolt unsurpassable balance and pinpoint precision. The Firebolt has an acceleration of 0-150 miles an hour in ten seconds and incorporates an unbreakable breaking charm. Price on request._

Price on request…the price wasn't really an issue however the sight of that sleek broom certainly tested his resolve to remain inconspicuous. Buying a Firebolt in front of the rabid ever growing crowd would gain Harry in disguise some serious attention, after all everyone would be interested in who would and could pay for an item with such a large price tag.

Obviously very few individuals could afford the broom for the price to be given on request. Harry Potter showing up at Hogwarts with it three weeks later would ensure that at least one person would investigate his summer movements he was too well known and under too much scrutiny for him to be able to keep something like that quiet for long.

Once the news was out, it wouldn't take any one long to make the connection, most witches and wizards may lack logic and be terribly complacent but sadly not all of them were stupid. Heck Malfoy would be complaining to anyone and everyone possible, as I had a broom that outclassed his father's _generous_ donation to the Slytherin Quidditch team.

With one last longing look at the sleek broom, Harry left the Quidditch shop behind and entered the bank with slumped shoulders. Squaring his shoulder's and making an attempt to wipe his face of expression Harry approached a free goblin to ask, "Do you provide any options to make purchases without carrying around large amounts of Galleons or muggle Pounds?"

The Goblin proceeded to list about twenty methods of avoiding carrying money around and outlining the cost, benefits and drawbacks of each method available. Harry picked a card that essentially was Gringotts form of a debit card that could, if he so chose, be used over the internet.

For wizarding purchases, Harry got himself a money pouch crafted from Moke leather. Through ritualistic magic it was bound to Harry only, keyed to both his blood and magic. Even if someone else could find the shrinking pouch, only Harry could touch it without some nasty side effects. A second ritual was performed to bind the pouch to the contents of his vault, Harry had only to think about having a certain amount of Galleons and it was transports from vault to money pouch instantaneously, even through all wards. The two side effects of the ritual were the destruction of the vault's key and vault's door fusing with the surrounding wall to disappear.

Exiting Gringotts, Harry was well pleased, even if several hundred Galleons poorer (hey if he was a goblin he would charge a hefty fee for the lost of a vault for an indefinite period of time).

Drifting back through the alley, Harry decided to purchase his school supplies. To hell with any future repercussions, he could easily concoct a believable story that could deflect any questions over why his magic-phobic relatives allowed him to pick up supplies for a school they despise.

He had been nearly sorted into Slytherin for a reason, a few half truths scattered amongst some necessary lies and he was home free. Harry was no longer fazed by the fact he was crafty and had ambition, by of those were traits were products of his upbringing and quite frankly extremely useful. Hmm, how about his uncle dropping him off during a trip to London for something or other, he had taken such a trip while I with them after all. They had been strangely accommodating when he asked to come along to buy his school supplies, after he had pointed out that other witches or wizards would come around asking questions if he didn't have the supplies (the Dursleys had after all been accommodating when allowing him to leave and they would do anything to avoid making the acquaintance of what they termed as freaks).

He went the apothecary first to replenish his supply of potions ingredients, getting more then asked for amount of each deciding that he would do some brewing before going back to school. Harry would love to wipe the self-satisfied sneer off the Potions Master's face. As his school robes were now several inches two sort he visited Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions and bought new ones, including three casual ones for the weekends.

He got himself a new bag and trunk as one had become worn and the other would not carry everything he owned anymore. The former had more pockets then its appearance would show, one for each available subject at Hogwarts (he would no long have to scrounge around to find the textbook) and a few extra for stationary supplies and was charmed against wear and feather-light. The later of which had three expanded compartments and was charmed to be pretty much indestructible, feather-light and to shrink and resize on command.

He explored a few other shops, bought himself three more cauldrons (just in case), something that made his telescope obsolete, a perfect, moving model of the galaxy in a large glass ball (ensuring that he would find astronomy homework extremely easy and from what the shop clerk said would be handy for one of his new subjects, Divination too), a wand holster and care kit and a few other odds and ends.

Most importantly of all, he needed to buy his school books. Taking out his book list and consulting it for the first time, Harry now understood why Hagrid had written that _The Monster Book of Monsters_ would come in handy it was the set book for Care of Magical Creatures. He still needed to get the books for his other three electives, Ancient Rune, Arithmancy and Divination.

Harry got a surprise when he looked in the bookshop window. Instead of the usual display of gold-embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs, there was a large iron cage behind the glass which held about a hundred copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters_. Obviously the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, Kettleburn, Harry thought, had changed the textbook (if the upper years had to use a biting book for class all the lower years would have heard about it) and just as obviously had not informed the bookstore of how to manage the beasts…umm, books.

Harry changed direction and entered a nearby tanners, he got a funny look from the person manning the store when he asked to buy just over two hundred belts. As Harry entered Flourish and Blotts, the manager came hurrying towards him.

"Hogwarts?" he said abruptly. "Come to get your new books?"

"Not entirely," Harry said.

It seemed that the manager didn't hear him as he said impatiently, "Get out of the way," and brushed Harry aside. He drew on a pair of very thick gloves, picked up a large knobbly walking stick and proceeded towards the door of the _Monster Book_s' cage.

"Hang on," said Harry quickly, "I've already got one of those."

"Have you?" A look of enormous relief spread over the man's face. "Thank heavens for that, I've been bitten five times already this morning-"

A loud noise rent the air two of the _Monster Book_s had had seized a third and were pulling it apart.

"Stop it! Stop it!" cried the manager, poking the walking stick between the bars and knocking the books apart. "I'm never stocking them again, never! Its been bedlam! I thought we'd seen the worst when we brought in two hundred copies of _The Invisible Book of Invisibility_ – cost a fortune and we never did find them in the end…well is there anything else I can do for you with?"

"How about I help you first, Harry approached the cage, shaking off the manager's restraining hands when he tried to stop him. Opening the door and stepping inside, dropping the parcel of belts to the floor just inside the door. Glad that Hagrid's replied to his thank you note, promptly, he knew how to calm the books and had already practiced with his own copy. When he was finally done with binding the last of the books he was ecstatic, due to his Seeker reflexes and dealing with the dragon hatchling Norbert he only had superficial wounds.

Turning to exit the cage with the remaining belts over one shoulder, Harry discovered that a crowd had formed to watch his battle. Glad that his sunglasses and hat had remained on him during the tussle with the vicious Harry waved off the bystanders and re-approached the manager carrying the last of his adversaries.

"Now that that's been sorted, I need to show you how to handle the little blighters." At the bookstore manager's flummoxed nod Harry continued. "Now to open one of them you stoke them." Harry took the belt off and ran two fingers down the books spine, which shuddered, fell open and lay quiet in his hand. "Personally I would keep on stoking the book once its open, I would recommend continuing to stoke it as I have found that the more often you do this the easier the book is to manage. I have had my copy a little under a week and have spent several hours each day calming it and now the book can be trusted to be unbound and not destroy everything in sight (bar a plush toy he had bought it on whim) while its owner is there. Essentially treat it as either pet or prisoner."

"As I have been put out of pocket to buy the belts on your merchandise, care to make a deal?" The Manager nodded again, this time warily. "Here is the receipt for the purchase of the belts, I would like to credit to that amount on any of the books in your store and you can charge anyone who buys one of the _Monster Book of Monsters_ for the cost of the belt to recoup your loses." He was not going to throw money around like water even if he now knew he had more then he could ever use.

The Manager quickly agreed, unsurprising as the deal didn't put him out of pocket at all. Harry got one of the shopping cauldrons and started filling it with books starting with those on his list and picking up any other book that took his fancy. He brought them to the counter (Harry had followed what Hermione would have done if given free rain in a book store) he had picked up quite a lot more books then what his credit covered. Quietly Harry paid the difference and the manager lit up again as he had gotten a large sale from me anyway.

Returning to his hotel rooms, Harry promptly dropped his shopping just inside the door, took off his shoes and hat and exchanged his sunglasses for his new set of non-tinted glasses and ordered up a meal through room service. Polishing off his meal, Harry cleaned up, changed into his sleepwear and drifted into the oblivion of sleep.

* * *

_**AN**_

_Aright, some people have asked if I am going to update soon the brief answer is NO. _

_There are several reasons for the delay of the posting of the next chapter :- _

The original version of the next chapter was lost due to my young cousin poking something into the tower and frying the motherboard and scrambling the hard drive, as my notes for this story were also stored on the computer they too are gone and need to be started again (last time it took me three years to compile them).

Quite frankly once I had gotten a new tower (sorry but eating and paying the bills come first) I re-read the two rather small chapters and realised that there were plot holes forming already forming. After researching and fiddling with the storyline, timelines I rushed to write and post a pair of second rate chapters in a story that despite my hard work would have reached 40 000 words (if that) and then would peatier off as I would not be able to make it contort enough to get it to go where I wanted it to.

I noticed that overall that the quality of the writing wasn't up to par and in fact was riddled with the same problems that I have pointed out to other Fanfiction writers as such,I am ashamed that I ever posted these two chapters and will not change or add to it until I have rewritten the story notes and gone through them to insure that the ideas thatI want to explore will actually work with the canon universe and each other.

All of this will actually be going on the back burner anyway for several personal reasons, my mother has become unwell and until her medication dosage is worked out. As such I am spending all my time looking after her as she is not allowed to lift anything that weighs more then a kilogram currently and is restricted to little movement (trust me ensuring she rests and is taking care of herself is a full time job).


End file.
